


Betwixt

by llama_at_221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: John's a cutie, M/M, Moon!Sherlock, Sherlock's an embarrassed lil patoot, Sky!People, Star!Love, Sun!John, Teenlock, hehe, like a really odd one, probably, someone's done this before, this'll be an odd one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 08:31:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9876674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llama_at_221b/pseuds/llama_at_221b
Summary: Betwixt all of human perception, there are universes. There is one particular universe in which the sky lives. It manifests as an enormous garden, glorious in its hugeness. The sky, all of the stars, the sun, the moon, comets, galaxies. All in one universe, living together in mostly harmonious nature. I don't know, just try it. You might like it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the first chapter. I don't know! Don't judge me.... *retreats into corner* *plays with little Sherlock dolls*  
> Inspired by this tumblr post.  
> Copy into a new browser: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/464644886536848832/

Every evening, without fail, the sun would die and the moon would replace it.  
  
Of course, mere humans could not see the actual happenings of the sky’s garden. To understand what they could not, they fabricated space and time and put the sun and the moon as planets and stars and whatnot.  
  
They were not planets. They were not stars. They were not people.  
  
They were something different, something new. They preferred humanoid shape, as it was easy to move about in. They all glowed differently, according to their respective human titles - but they had individual names as well.  
  
The moon was given a name when he was born of the debris of an ancient world. His name was to be Sherlock, and he liked the name very well. It was different than all the other names, and just odd enough as to be mysterious but not conspicuous.  
  
He concluded, it was a nice name.  
  
The sun was given a name when he was born of the love of his community. His name was to be John, and he liked the name very well. It was short and fit in with other names, sweet and natural. Like his personality, it reflected others’ interpretations.   
  
All in all, he thought it was a nice name.  
  
Every star person, let’s call them, got to choose a favorite other when they came of age, much like human concepts of marriage and love. John was not yet of that age, and neither was Sherlock, but it hardly mattered.   
  
Nobody liked Sherlock, as far as he knew, and he would never be chosen, and neither would he choose. Everyone was boring and monotonous. Doing the same thing every day and every night. Sherlock wanted something exciting.  
  
John was never going to choose anyone. Nobody was different enough... except for the moon. He had long heard tales of the dark and mysterious moon, and quite unprecedentedly, he fell in love with the other entity. Although they had never met, John gave up his place in the sky willingly and without a struggle every evening. For the moon. All for the moon.  
  
They had never met each other, but that was soon to be changed. Very soon.  
  
                                                                                                                        8********************************************8  
  
  


The sun, John, had, of course, heard of the Earth's moon, and it intrigued him. He had, in the past few days, been trying to find out more about the moon, such as his name. He had made some progress with the stars who knew the moon closer. Oddly enough, the moon didn't seem to have any friends, but John made do.  
  
He spoke with one Molly, a small star part of a nebula, a group of stars that called themselves 'the Yard'. She blushed quite fairly at speaking to the sun, for everyone had heard of the sun, and they all revered him. (John had no desire for people to worship him, yet they still did, which annoyed him to no end. But he would never be rude to anyone under any circumstances. This is, however, beside the point.)  
  
Moly addressed him with much more respect than he liked, but soon got to the point. He learned that the moon's name was Sherlock.  
  
Sherlock.  
  
What a beautiful name.  
  
He also learned that Sherlock - it made him happy just to think the name - was harsh and unfeeling to most of the stars. He was to Molly too, but less so. John didn't care; there was warmth in everyone, even if they didn't show it outwardly. He thanked the Molly star and was on his way - for it was close to day and John was all-important to that.  
  
                                                                                                                         8***********************************************8  
  
The moon, Sherlock, had, of course, heard of the Earth's sun, but to him, it was merely another star. Molly had, however, told him that the sun - what _was_ his name? - had come to her, looking for information about him. Why had he done that? Sherlock started to file away anything he heard about the sun. Molly eventually remembered to tell him the sun's name.  
  
It was John.  
  
So boring, so ordinary. Why in the great heavens did someone as tedious as John want to find out more about the moon? _Him_? Sherlock was the least liked member of the sky garden. Everyone disliked the solitary moon, shrouding the world in comfortable darkness. People, sky and otherwise, it seemed, only liked to be blind if it was a choice.  
  
So night after night, Sherlock spent his life in the dark, building up his intellect for nothing better to do. Why did John _care_? This bothered him immensely. It was unheard of for him to _not know something._  
  
The sun shouldn't care. The sun had hundreds of things he could do instead of finding out about the moon. Why was he fixating on Sherlock? Why was he so interested in him? There was no logical reason, except...  
  
Oh.  
  
No, that couldn't be right. Sherlock checked through his data again.  
  
It was true. Everything pointed to it.  
  
The sun had _fallen in love_ with the moon.  
  
This wasn't possible.  
  
The _sun_.  
  
Had _fallen in love with_.  
  
Him.  
  
The _moon_.  
  
This literally was not possible. They were polar opposites. They had never. Even. Met. Yet, all of his deductions pointed towards it... Wait, why was he even considering this? He was the moon. He had no emotions. He was never choosing someone. He would never accept to being chosen by someone as mundane as John.  
  
John was mundane, was he not?  
  
He seemed to be like everyone else.  
  
There was only one way to find out. He decided that he must meet the John, this sun. He would stay in the garden in the morning time and speak to John, and decide then, and only then, if he was worth contacting again. He seriously doubted it.  
  
Oh, how gloriously wrong he was.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are life. Comments, please, they make me happy. Warm my lil icy heart with your comments.


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